~4.3~

Ivan found the man he was looking for on the roof of a run-down cinema which alternated every five years between showing arthouse films and hardcore pornography.

The theater was one of the smallest buildings in the neighborhood, in terms of height, which was why the other John had chosen it. He was tending a fire, and the taller buildings which had grown up around it provided some shelter from the wind. He had the carcass of a large bird on a spit, suspended on two forks of scrap metal stuck into bits of brick.

“That is a bit large for a pigeon,” Ivan said.

“It’s a wild turkey,” John said.

“There are wild turkeys in Jericho?”

“They live in the parks and travel up and down the river and stream beds where they cut through the city. They aren’t hard to find if you know where to look for them,” John said. “There’s beaver in the stream beds, too. Lots of game in the city. How many goodly creatures are there here!”

“And what of the other kind?” Ivan asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Predators.”

“Raptors, owls,” John said. “Coyotes, wild dogs, and the mutts born of both of them. Feral cats. Nothing of much concern to us, and all goodly and beauteous in their own way. There are wolves in the parks, of course, but only if you don’t know where not to look for them.”

“There was something of concern to us last night,” Ivan said. “Did you notice anything?”

“Last night?” John repeated. “Last night, I was on top of the cathedral of Saint John the Divine.”

“Doing?”

“Dancing. Checking the peregrines that nest there.”

“And you saw nothing? Heard nothing?”

“Not a mouse stirring.”

“We were attacked,” Ivan said. “By some sort of beast, or beasts.”

“Wolves?”

“Not wolves,” Ivan said. “Something else. Very distinctly else.”

John poked at the coals of his fire and turned his roast over.

“I think you want the other John,” he said.